PS 

A— ^y-C^ i-ri HI n HI n M n 1 1 1 1 HH I HI t II rirTTT: 

1022 



N 




THE SEA WORLD WAITS 



BY 



HERBERT J. HALL 



The Four Seas Company tt Publishers i: Boston 



111 I i II i* mi I i t ii > i i m ti* M JMtiTT 




Glass J^3SiS_ 
Boole .As 4-554- 

CopyrightN"_J^jLL_ 

COPn^IGKT DEPOSIT. 



THE SEA WORLD WAITS 

A Book of Poems 



BY 



HERBERT J. HALL 




BOSTON 

THE FOUR SEAS COMPANY 
1922 



Copyright, 1^22, by 
The Four Seas Company 



^^n^b 



The Four Seas Press 
Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 



AUG 31 1922 
©C1A686159 



CONTENTS 
PART I. THE SEA WORLD WAITS 



Page 



The Sea World Waits 9 

The Island ^^ 

In Solitude ^^ 

Mirage ^^ 

Calm ^3 

Spring ^4 

The Storm ^5 

Fog i6 

Sirens ^7 

Memories ^° 

Triumph ^9 

Captivity Captive ^^ 

The Word 21 

Prayer ^^ 

Truth 23 

The Voice 24 

The Future 25 

The Line 26 

Fire on the Beach in Winter 27 

Moon Path 28 

Rain at Sea 29 

Sunrise 3^ 

Harbor Water 3^ 

Sunlight 32 

The Wave 33 

Lest the Great Sea Be Lonely 34 



PART II. THEME 

Theme 37 

The Old Symphony 38 

Bass Viol • • • 39 

Cello 40 

Oboe 41 

Clarinet 42 

Bass Tuba 43 

The Harp 44 

Cymbals 45 

Fantasy 46 

Pride 47 

March Funebre 48 

Flame Song 49 

NovAES 50 

Prelude 51 

Intermezzo 52 

Finale 53 



PART III. TREE, YOU ARE A SHADOW 

Tree, You Are a Shadow 57 

The Hearth Fire 59 

Tree-Tops in a Storm 60 

Moon Moth 61 

Scarf Dance 62 

Fire Fly Dance 63 

Clog Dance 65 

Snow 66 

Moonlight 67 

The Stone Tiger 68 

Tiger, Tiger 69 

The Road 70 

The Hand 71 

The Pistol ^2 

Midnight 73 



PART I 

The Sea World Waits 



THE SEA WORLD WAITS 

The ocean pauses, will there be storm or sun — 
The morning mists hang low, the long seas ply 
Their even course. Half tide, the great gulls cry. 
Half tide, half tide — and slowly, one by one 
They dip and ride the waves, smooth waves that run 
Like liquid silver dulled, smooth waves that die 
Where vague and low the distant islands lie. 
Lean ribbed islands, bleak and bare and dun. 

Who knows what fate hangs now upon the shift 

The casual turn of wind? Heavy and gray 

And timelesss all the sea world waits until — 

Unnoticed, straight above, a cloudy rift 

Comes blue, closes, widens — ^wins the day — 

The light burns through. The sun god has his will. 



[9] 



THE ISLAND 

Spray drenched ledges, brown as the weeds are brown, 
White ridged as foam is white, — touched with green 
Of bay — low spreading oaks and pines that lean 
As the wind wills — tall cliffs plunging down and down 
To lightless depths of sea that hold and drown; 
And here behind their sheltering rock-carved screen 
A few gray houses, low and patched and mean, — 
Lonely and still — the little fisher town — 

Lost in the sea, remote and bleak and still. 
The last brave outpost of the world of men. 
Here have I come, here shall all striving cease — 
My work is done — here shall I have my fill 
Of silence. Give me your perfect quiet then. 
Dream Island, give me at last your own great peace. 



lO] 



IN SOLITUDE 

Here in still island solitude the way, 

Of thought, the ways of feeling, change and clear. 

With ocean's depth and mystery so near, 

The haste, the restlessness of living, stay 

Their course. Confusion and the heavy sway 

Of doubt, the reign of s^hadow-haunted fear, 

Like thinning mist-clouds, lift and disappear 

In clarity of dawn and closing day. 

Here limits vanish and I seem to know 
Something of largeness — call it what you will. 
Faith, insight — these the wide sea gives; 
They come unbidden with the ebb and flow 
Of many waters, fill my heart until 
The spirit that was dead within me lives. 



[II] 



MIRAGE 

The great sea dreams fantastic dreams today, 
Sun magic rules the water and the sky 
And who shall say what lands are those that lie 
Along the blurred horizon, dim and gray. 
Ships that sailed long since a world away 
Come back again at last, go drifting by — 
Dreams, sea dreams that live awhile and die — 
Vain and idle fancies — ^who shall say. 

Fail now across the shining water planes 
The cries of sailors and the ghostly sound 
Of deep sea chanteys; vaguely far and tall 
The towers of enchanted islands, fanes 
And palaces, grow dim; outward bound 
Once more the dream ships pass beyond recall. 



[12] 



CALM 

Deep blue and motionless, the wide sea blends 

With sky and cloud till sea and sky are one, 

One with the heavy air and with the sun: 

Rarely a far bright surface turns and sends 

A shoreward flash ; the shimmering distance bends 

And wavers with long lines of heat that run 

Almost invisible. The day begun 

In calm, in night of calm, unchanging ends. 

Too prodigal the warm sun-minted gold. 

Too calm the sea. The ancient menace sleeps 

But lightly through the still midsummer day. 

Have care, have care, the ocean*s depths are cold, 

Beware the night, the chill of danger creeps. 

Far in the west the broad heat lightnings play. 



13] 



SPRING 

With greenness unbelievable the spring 

Touches the island valleys. Day by day 

The planes of ocean soften and the gray 

Old rocks grow warm. The long bright waves up-fling 

Their sudden showers. High on easy wing 

The white gulls soar. Fickle winds of May 

Over the storm-worn granite hilltops play — 

Who shall betray their gentle murmuring? 

Who shall betray these soft, peace-fbreathing airs — 
Who shall remember? Even now the light 
Grows dim — the quick recession of a wave 
Drops for a space the old disguise and bares 
The sharp edged reef where cold and black as night 
Yawns a deep cavern Mke an open grave. 



[14] 



THE STORM 

Death, white death in the rush of the roaring gale, 

White arms of death among the crouching rocks: 

The Hfted ocean rises, rises, locks 

The island in one fierce embrace — tlhey fail — 

The strong defences fail — whole seas assail 

The crumbling land. Mighty granite blocks 

Uplifted, leap and roll in tumbling flocks. 

Death, white death and the storm's unceasing wail. 

Death, still death. O God of crashing storm. 
What is this limp and lifeless thing that lies 
Undone, this man whose last defiant breath 
Calls on Thy name, this man still limp and warm, 
This man who struggles to the last and dies. 
Who triumphs in the very arms of death? 



[15] 



FOG 

The sea gives up its unremembered dead — 

They walk the shore, they crown the cUffs, they stand 

On every cape and pinnacle of land. 

Each quiet cove and inlet feels their tread. 

Up from the darkness of the ocean's bed 

Obedient to a stern, low voiced command, 

At the wavering beck of a pale, uplifted hand 

They come, the silent hosts of fear and dread. 

We feel their presence in the dripping cloud; 
Their touch is on our foreheads, over all 
The sunlit world the darkening vapors sail — 
This is their day, the drifting sea wraiths crowd 
Into our lives, breathless we hear their call 
And stout indeed the heart that does not quail. 



[i6] 



SIRENS 

Calling, singing, calling through the rain — 
Siren voices, strong, insistent, near, 
Then far and failing with the fall and veer 
Of cold sea wind. Silence — and again 
The calling — shall the siren song be vain? 
Above the noise of waters, faint and clear: — 
"This helmsman, this way, have no fear." 
Clearing sea mists bear the soft refrain. 

Cordage pearled with fog and sails adrip. 
High bows lifting to the rain-white swell — 
A gliding spectre feels her way along — 
Shrouded for her grave, the freighted ship. 
Shrouded for her grave? The cry "All's well' 
Comes back to mock tihe distant siren song. 



[17] 



MEMORIES 

Poignant, grief laden, chill and comfortless 
How the old memories come flooding back, 
Known sins, known weaknesses and all the lack 
Of brave accomplishment, the consciousness 
Of heavy wrong that stands without redress, 
That death will oome before the hanging slack 
Can be made taut, before the dull and black 
Will shine again or trouble cease to press. 

Yet the blue seas their sloping shores enfold. 
The spreading waters warm beneath the sun. 
Peace, beauty, power, these abide — 
To shame me in my littleness; the bold 
Hard ledges mock, and gleaming ripples run 
Lightly above the steady rising tide. 



[i8] 



TRIUMPH 

All, all is taken from me, all — 

I know but heavy sorrow and the long 

Insistent pain that comes of hopeless wrong. 

The heavens that were love and beauty fall — 

Joy and laughter are beyond recall. 

Yet shall the barren places hear my song, 

Yet shall the courage of my faitlh be strong. 

Unmoved, resistant like a great sea wall. 

For in the barrenness of life I feel 
A dignity and greatness that can be 
Naught but the hand of God. Cold and bare 
The sloping shores, merciless "as steel 
The hard flat surface of the circling sea — 
The more life mocks at me the more I dare. 



>9] 



CAPTIVITY CAPTIVE 

Rough bound on every hand by walls of stone, 

Held prisoner by a sea that never sleeps, 

Bowed in a dreary wailing wind that sweeps 

The warmtlh and comfort out of life, alone 

I walk these island paths; what shall atone 

For hard gray walls and grim, death-guarded keeps, 

For cold that from the icy water creeps 

Into the shrinking marrow of the bone. 

Not less than freedom is the full return 

For bondage; I must force with bleeding hands 

The bonds ithat hold me; up the winding stair 

Of this earth dungeon I sihall leap to learn 

The exaltation of a wide command. 

The spreading sea, the boundless fields of air. 



[20] 



THE WORD 

The morning sunlight Uke a cloth of gold 

Sparkles upon the sea. A fresh wind takes 

The rising waves, from roughening water shakes 

The flying whitecaps. Swiftly, fold on fold 

The long blue rollers, deep and bright and cold, 

Pass the tall headlands. All the sea world wakes- 

A new creation with the sunrise breaks — 

A keen new world for one grown gray and old. 

So is the morning, so the glowing sun. 
Even the hollows of the dark sea caves 
Far in the depths of their eternal night 
Feel the faint stirring of the day begun. 
Above the mighty concourse of the waves 
God speaks the word again and there is light. 



[21] 



PRAYER 

Long days of island stillness, nights that fill 
The firmament with blazing stars — the frail 
Soft wonder of tlie moon — white clouds that sail 
Like battle fleets of old — the golden thrill 
Of sunrise mounting, mounting high until 
The last faint glimmers of the planets fail. 
What have these things to do witlh that old tale 
Of heaven and an all pervading Will? 

With half closed eyes I let the strong light in, 

I breathe the amazing freshness of the day, 

I reach out slowly with a groping hand: — 

**God of the sea," the whispered words begin 

Their faltering prayer, "show me, show me the way, 

Almost I see, almost I understand." 



22] 



TRUTH 

What if I gaze at evening from an heig^ht 
And see the colors of the world grow dim — 
The ocean's limitless horizon rim 
Lost in the trailing shadows of the night. 
The hard reefs in the pale, uncertain light 
Melt in their ghostly froth and where were grim 
Sea walls of stone, appear at evening's whim 
Thin, trel'lised films of shadow tissue slight. 

Nothing is real, the ocean at my feet 
Has all the airy depths of cloudless skies. 
No more are time and space, whatever seems 
Is true. In boundless solitude I greet 
The night of mystery, the truth that lies 
Deep hidden in the quiet land of dreams. 



[23] 



THE VOICE 

Speak not, be still, the smallest human sound 
Would bring from every side an ihundred more 
To rend the silence with their echo roar. 
The very heart, the restless heart is bound 
In silence. Here witihin this rocky mound — 
This island in midsea — the slender core 
Of stillness lies and all the sunlit shore 
Dreams in a spell of quiet — ^wide, profound. 

Out of the deep a sigh, a murmur grows; 
A crystal voicing of the ocean's breath 
Comes and is gone — ^through every cove and bend 
The word is passed along, along it flows — 
The sea's slow commenting on life and death — 
Voice of the beginning and the end. 



[24] 



THE FUTURE 

Time halts here — time that knows the glare 
Of mid-day suns, the mist-hung fields of dawn, 
Long tranquil afternoons and the forlorn 
Sweet hours of dusk — ^time that knows breaking care, 
Long days of struggle, brave resolve, the wear 
And strain of life, the aching love and scorn. 
Time halts — a great oibscuring veil is drawn 
Across the past, leaving oblivion there. 

Oblivion — the long unfolding done — 

Time halts a moment's space and bids me stand 

Waiting, thoughtful, silent and alone — 

The old days dead, the future scarce begun. 

A wave breaks hollow on the shining sand, 

I turn and face again the great unknown. 



[25] 



THE LINE 

Today I ihave seen 

A clear dividing line 

Drawn sharp between 

The winter and the spring. 

Snow is on the marshes 

And on all the hills 

Down to the very margin of the sea. 

There is the Hne 

And there begins the spring. 

Soft blue as ever yet in May, 

Wide fields of ocean, misty blue, 

Stretch on and on — 

Into the bending sky. 



[26] 



FIRE ON THE BEACH IN WINTER 

In the waste of snow 

The drift-wood smokes and kindles, 

Turns to flame, 

Heat and cold commingle, 

Strive for mastery. 

The flame is dull against the snow, 

It glows against the gray sea — 

The smoke has color of the sea. 

The round, black rimmed hole in the snow 

Is like a window into an inner world of fire 

The salt edge of the sea 
Comes creeping, creeping 
Over the icy shingle. 
The keen salt edge of the sea— 
To quench the world of fire. 



[27] 



MOON PATH 

The moon path is a net of silver fishes, 

Whirhng, twisting, leaping at their play. 

I draw tihe net in slowly, carefully — 

It is strangely light — 

I might have known the slender cords would break. 



[28] 



RAIN AT SEA 

A million little circling water rings, 

A million tiny leaping dots of white 

Trouble the smoothness of the flattened sea. 

A new delight of freshness fills the air, 

A wordless whisper — and the shower has passed. 



.29] 



SUNRISE 

At early dawn the fisher fleet 

Lay still and gray and cold 

As the ghost gray sea: — 

A rose red flush came up the sky, 

The masts were burnished gold 

With sails of rose; — 

A flare of flame as broad as the moon 

Burned through the barrier clouds 

A path of fire; — 

The masts charred black and the limp sails hung 

As dark as the darkened shrouds 

Across the sun. 



[30] 



HARBOR WATER 

Green, opaque, 

Like a huge inlay of glass 

The harbor water lies — 

Reflecting nothing; 

Giving back instead 

At odd, uneven intervals, 

A quick, blind glare of sun. 



I3i] 



SUNLIGHT 

Green and gold the waters play 
All across tihe wind-swept bay. 
Never trail of shadow there, 
Green and gold the waters wear — 
Green and gold and gray. 

Life and light possess the day, 
Near and distant, all the way. 
What is shadow, what is care? 
Green and gold the waters wear — 
Green and gold and gray. 



[32] 



THE WAVE 

Out of the deep water 

Into the shoal water 

Breaking reflections of clouds and sky- 

Into the still water 

Silently, coolly, 

Came the smooth roll of a wave. 

Into the weed tangle 

Lifting, floating, 

Over the dull rocks leaving them bright- 

Under the clifif' s edge 

Murmuring, sighing. 

Flowed and was ended — the wave. 



[33] 



LEST THE GREAT SEA BE LONELY 

Lest the great sea be lonely, lest it fear, 
Recede and dwindle in the lengthening night — 
The low moon thin and pale and warped and sere 
Hangs out at last her yellow lantern light. 



t34] 



PART II 

Theme 



THEME 

The simple theme has haunted me for days 

With quiet, slow insistence. 

In all my dreams 

The brave elaborations rise and fall 

Timed to a quiet breathing. 

And may the God of all musicians give to me 

The strange poetic sureness 

That can take 

Out of the formless world of air and sun 

A music that has lived there always 

But unknown, unheard, undreamed, 

A music that shall speak with surer tongue 

Than all the lovely words that have been spoken. 

Come to me, soul of viol. 

Soul of harp. 

Crooning of mellow tubes. 

Come to me and let your voices flow 

In magic modulations — 

Come to me rhythm and balance 

You are my inner life, my knowledge. 

Now shall the song be made — 

Song of my brain 

Song of the air and sun, 

Song of sweet life and living 

Voice of the silent world. 



[37] 



THE OLD SYMPHONY 

Old music lives again today. 

These violins and 'cellos, flutes and horns, 

Are old, old instruments. 

The great piano has become 

A tinkling harpsichord — 

The leader sits before it — 

Raises a free hand 

Releasing so 

The first notes of the ancient symphony. 

On, on the measures flow 

Fresh and sweet and true — 

They have not matched it in these later days. 

Andante con moto, 

Adagio, tripping scherzo. 

Allegro maestro assai — 

Groping, searching, 

Dancing, jesting. 

Triumphing at last. 

The white haired leader rises slowly. 
Bows with stately grace, 
Then as fades a dream 
Grows dim 
And is no more. 



[38] 



BASS VIOL 

Shedding gold pollen like a giant bee 

Tihe squat bow sweeps across the viol's face — 

Deep sounds, cross cuts of music, meaning naught 

Yet serving all — the true support, the bass. 

Down, down the viol slides to depths below 

All sound — 'to depths where silence lies unmoved. 



[39] 



'CELLO 

O splendid voice, singing alone, 

Restrained by trembling fingers, 

Then given freely, warmly, fully. 

Voice of the old brown wood — 

Singing to the people. 

Singing to dull ears 

That cannot understand. 

Wake now, rouse them. 

Give them your meaning fully, 

Give them war and strife — 

Give them beauty growing out of strife. 

Beauty that makes the heart ache. 

Beauty that makes tihe heart break. 

Then peace, a long, deep, final peace. 



[40] 



OBOE 

But let that note be heard 
Above the sound of strings — 
The concert Hghts grow dim, 
A sudden shadow brings 
The spirit of dreaming woods, 
Of moonUt glades that lie 
Far, far from the ways of men 
Beneath the quiet sky. 



[41] 



CLARINET 

W'hen the hot sun owns the earth and sky 

And round fruit bends the trees, 

When the iharvesters leave the fields and lie 

Full length in the slow winged breeze, 

Then Jean joints up his clarinet 

And pipes a reedy tune — 

A dry httle air and the time is set 

To the heat of the harvest noon. 

To the heat and the dust and 'the clustered vine 

And the air of a sultry day. 

To the glint of a distant water shine 

And the smell of new mown hay. 



[42] 



BASS TUBA 

I am the deep foundation, 

Sounding brass; 

Others pass, 

I, I alone remain. 

My great mouth flares above 

The busy throng, 

My heavy song 

Goes burrowing far below. 

My long vibrations hold. 

Begin and break, 

Descend and shake 

The very walls of sound. 



[43] 



THE HARP 

Obscured and dim, yet full of instant life — 
A woman's instrument, that feels and knows 
The tug of sorrow and the joy of strife, 
The kiss of lovers and the clash of foes. 



[44] 



CYMBALS 

The cymbals w^hispered — ^hush — 

They said that — 

Hush— 

The great brass disks 

That should have clashed, 

That should have shattered silence, 

Hush, hush — they said — 

And silence came. 



145] 



FANTASY 

Oh, sweet irrelevance of flowing sound, 
Of music that will wander without stay 
Over the world and under the world at play — 
Oh, voices lost and of a sudden found, 
That will not follow, will not yet be bound; — 
Music of dawn and of the dying day; — 
Music of color, green and blue and gray ; 
Voices of air and of the sun-warmed ground. 

What instrument shall form you, wihat red lips 
Can sing your quick withdrawal and the shy 
Renewal of your loveliness? What time 
Can beat for you whose changing rhythm trips 
And glides, whose magic words so swiftly fly 
They will not bear the fairy weight of rhyme? 



[46] 



PRIDE 

Musician with your pride of tone, 

Your joy of rushing speed, 

Your multitudinous notes, 

Splendor of great passage, 

Decorations Hght as air — 

Be not proud — 

For the poet too may sing. 

Here and there 

Some shining broidery of rhyme, 

Some cadenced word of human speech 

Obscures your flying measures. 

All your splendid themes. 

Your fine elaborations fail 

Before that magic word. 

Poet with your breathing loveliness of words, 
The flute and viol of your flowing speech, 
Be not too proud, too sure of mastery — 
What words of yours can match the sunrise; 
When moonlight speaks, your vaunted words are dumb. 

Sea, air, sky and velvet valley, 

Sunlit peak and spreading river, 

Be not proud, be not certain of your mastery. 

There is in touch of hand, 

In curve of brow, in lips that speak no word, 

More of beauty, more of light, more of heaven. 

Than ever yet was known or can be known elsewhere. 

All the joy of life may sing 

In one swift glance of love. 

[47] 



MARCHE FUNEBRE 

I must have youth beside me when they play 
Music of sorrow, youth that does not know 
The weight of sorrow. Steady and deep and slow 
The great march. Now the silent soldiers sway 
Rhythmically, heavily, down the peopled way. 
Loss, unending loss, the trumpets blow, 
Keen, keen the blending measures grow — 
A brave soul marches to the grave today. 

Stand closer, youth, brave youth with unbowed head. 
Your spirit shall be mine, your courage mine. 
Though tightening heart and sudden indrawn breath 
Pay tribute to this music of the dead. 
In the clear distance, down the lengthening line 
The trumpets sing of triumph over death. 



[48] 



FLAME SONG 

Flame ! 

What else shall I call you — 

Girl of the song? 

Flame ! 

How the orchestral branches sway 

Like trees in the wind. 

Tihe fire of your song 

Mounts up and up 

Above the branches — 

Consuming, leaping, 

Failing, falling. 

Till embers alone remain. 



[49] 



NOVAES 

Suddenly I knew that this young girl- 
Playing old music, great musiic 
With ease and brilliance — 
Was doing the incredible. 
I knew that she had somehow passed 
A vague and mystic bound, 
That she was over, well over, 
Into the realms of enchantment. 
Without effort, without sign, 
Perhaps without knowing it herself. 
She had crossed tihe border — 
She was no longer playing the piano. 
She was dreaming — she was free. 



[50] 



PRELUDE 

I would have this music played 

With players grouped about a fountain — 

Here the violins, 

There the 'cellos, 

Double bass beyond — 

And back, half hidden by the fountain bowl, 

The flute, an oboe and a long bassoon. 

A thin, smooth water jet 

Uprises, 

Wavers, 

Holds, 

Breaks brightly at the top 

And falls — a silver shower. 

Ready, bows and reeds, 
Ready, flute — 

Well played — 

Now you have heard and seen, 

Tell me which was motion. 

Which was sound, 

The fountain or the flute — 

And was the pizzicato done with strings 

Or dropping water? 



51 



INTERMEZZO 

The water jet falls lower, lower — 

Ceases. 

The sliding bows are still. 

Rhythm cancels rhythm, 

Nothing stirs — 

And yet upon the soundless air 

Steals out with fairy shyness 

Sometihing words may not disclose- 

A soft andante muted down 

Until it seems 

The very voice of silence. 



[52] 



FINALE 

Wake now and let the fountain wake — 

Forget the dream, 

Think now of Hfe and motion. 

A sheaf of streams leaps upward, 

Mingles, 

Falls to rise again, again, 

While charmed voices 

Intricately sing. 

A gleaming discord strikes one dagger thrust 

And goes. 

The crossed themes fly, 

They break, recover — 

Under all 

The great slow bass 

Spreads out a deep'ning shadow 

Till the hush of twilight comes, 

Until the slow, slow pace 

That lurks in every tempo swift 

Comes to its own. 

The water sheaf 

Becomes a single slender shaft again — 

Falls lower, lower, 

Sinks at last 

Into the fountain bowl. 



[53] 



PART III 

TreCj You Are a Shadow 



TREE, YOU ARE A SHADOW 

Tree, you are a shadow, 

Hooded with night. 

I think of hands. 

Folded in a black cloak, 

A head bent low. 

You do not stir. 

You do not speak. 

Tree, you are a shadow, 

Ominous and still. 

You are aloof. 

You are mysterious. 

Do you delight 

In the fireflies that dance above your roots, 

Are you amused 

By the sudden, shivering cry, 

The screech owl cry 

That you and I were expecting? 

I feel your aloofness. 

And your mystery, 

But I am not afraid. 

Tree, you are a shadow, 

Hooded with night. 

Is it birdsong or light that awakes me, 

Or tihe rustle of wind in the leaves? 

The night is gone 

And the shadows are gone. 

Ah, my tree — 

As the sap goes mounting skyward, 

[57] 



In your strong trunk, 

As your great branches sway in the air and the Hght 

So Hfe comes back to me 

And I feel, 

Vaguely but surely as you must feel, 

The courage and the will to live. 



[S8] 



THE HEARTH FIRE 

Steadily the fire played 

Upon the old heart of the wood. 

The great log slept in cool disdain. 

Over the iron bark and strong, spHt surfaces 

The insistent flames made myriad designs. 

A soft blue smoke kept rising, rising. 

Suddenly it came — the conflagration — 

The strong old wood gave way 

In a hundred places 

And fire leaped from its heart. 



[59] 



TREE-TOPS IN A STORM 

They rise and tug like leashed balloons- 
Up and down, side to side — 
Formless, green-black, leaping masses- 
Opening, closing, spreading, folding, 
Streaming with the rain. 



[60] 



MOON MOTH 

Darkly, 
Brightly, 

Wings of moonlight gleaming- 
Sailing, 
Drifting, 
Moon moth. 

Swiftly, 

Slowly, 

Less than shadow seeming — 

Silver, 

Nothing, 

Moon moth. 



[6i 



SCARF DANCE 

Dance ! 

For the fairy folk are dancing now. 

Dance ! 

The fairy folk will show you how. 

Great folk are dancing, 

Elf folk are prancing, 

Come now. 

Come make your bow. 

Come now, come out upon the moonlit green, 

Silk scarfs are flowing in a moonlit sheen, 

Great folk are dancing, 

Elf folk are prancing, 

Come now. 

Come make your bow. 

Moon music flowing with a soundless sound. 

Tip toes just touching on the dancing grounc 

Dance ! 

To the fairy music bend your knees. 

Dance ! 

For the wind is in the bending trees — 

Come now 

Come make your bow. 



[62] 



FIRE FLY DANCE 

Under the drooping elms the night is dark: the 
meadow seems lighter as though a fine mist were lying 
on the grass: in the deep shade of the trees a tiny 
greenish yellow star begins to glide back and forth in 
a sihort arc — ^this way, that way, disappearing in the 
darkness at each end of the swing. It is the baton of 
the fairy leader; it is the signal for the dance. Suddenly 
the tree toads and the frogs begin to pipe: 

Whee— 

The lantern dance. 

Winking 
Linking 

Bright 
Glows the elfin light 

Blinking 
Sinking 

Dark 
Goes each shining spark. 

Over the wide meadow the dance goes on; groups 
of lantern dancers hold the stage left, right and centre. 
Suddenly then, the whole stage glows with the 
ensemble : 



[63] 



Winking 
Linking 

Now 
Pirouette and bow. 

Blinking 
Sinking 

Done 
Off stage, off stage they run. 

A dog barks in the distance — the frogs and tree toads 
stop their piping for a moment, while in the darkness 
the stage is set for the next act, which is the Dance of 
Moon Beams. Slowly the meadow lightens. The 
moon appears from behind a heavy cloud bank. The 
piping begins in a lower, slower movement: 

Softly— 
The Dance of the Moon Beams. 



[64] 



CLOG DANCE 

Clap 

Rap 

Slap-slap-ker-slap, 

Heel rap, 

Toe slap, 

Heel rapping, 

Toe slapping. 

Now they are clipping it. 

Speeding up, slipping it, 

Off in the wihirl of it. 

Caught in the skirl of it. 

Pipers are puffing it, 

Drummers are ruffing it. 

Quick fiddles scratching it. 

Sharp fifer catching it. 

Keep it up, make it go. 

Keep it up heel and toe — 

On till the drummer drags, 

On till the fifer lags. 

Clap, 

Rap, 

Slap- slap— ker-slap. 



[65] 



SNOW 

Soft flakes light as air 

Sweep, 

Creep, 

Across the quiet fields; 

Slowly whiten the meadow, 

Fly, 

Lie, 

Cover the green of the world. 

Gray skies hold back the storm. 

Hold 

The cold. 

Behind vast billowing curtains 

The cloud-bound whirlwind waits. 



[66] 



MOONLIGHT 

Straight ovenhead 

A small, hard disk of silver 

Set in blue. 

The sky is empty : 

Not a star may shine. 

The moon-blanched land 

Lies bleak and shadowless. 



[67] 



THE STONE TIGER 

Four inches high he sits, 

Small ears held flat, 

His eyes two greenish slits 

Drawn down slantwise. 

The fanged jaws open wide- 

Is it a yawn, 

A silent roar of pride, 

Or is it protest 

At a world gone mad. 

At life awry 

And more than jungle bad? 

He comforts me. 



[68] 



TIGER, TIGER 

At night my stone smooth tiger gUdes 
Across the silent room. 
He's somewhere now, somewhere he hides 
Within the bookish gloom. 

Good hunting friend, the tangled brake 
Of poets be your lair. 
Crouch low behind my black bound Blake, 
Crouch low, good tiger, glare. 

Old Blake will know and welcome you 
There in the shifty night, 
But oh, whatever else you do, 
Burn bright for him, burn bright. 



[69] 



THE ROAD 

Tremulous patches of yellow light 

Lying along the wheel-worn way 
Fade and are gone as the whispering night 

Speeds through the woods at close of day. 

What of the road in the starlight dim 

Pallid and still in a world of shade? 
What of the road and what of him 

Who follows its course through the wooded glade? 



[70] 



THE HAND 

I saw it, I tell you — 

A hand on the raiMng— 

It came slowly 

Out of the darkness. 

The knuckles whitened 

As though a weight were lifting- 

I stood in the sihadow, 

Dared not move — 

But the hand slid down islowly 

And was gone. 



[71 



THE PISTOL 

The towering shadow of a man, 
The round blue rim of a pistol 

Death ! 
But I leapt at him— 

Crash — 
The night flared red — 
I, the coward, 
I, the weakling — 
Leapt — and won. 



l72] 



MIDNIGHT 

Tick — Tock, 
Rise, great moon, above the hill. 
The dream-touched house is white and still, 

Tick — Tock — 
In a darkened room the hours pass: 
Slowly, slowly through the glass 

Tick — Tock, 
The moonlight creeps across the floor. 
Brightens the wall, the hearth, the door; 

Tick — Tock — 
Falls like snow in a windless place, 
Reaches a quiet, sleeping face, 

Tick — Tock — 
No sound there is in the world tonight 
But the old clock ticking left and right. 

Tick — Tock. 



[73] 




# 



